


The Story of Tonight

by JaneAire



Series: I May Not Live to See Our Glory, But I Will Gladly Join the Fight [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, End of the world fucking, Gladnis, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mild Smut, Sharing a Bed, The night before Altissia fic no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12090303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneAire/pseuds/JaneAire
Summary: Gladiolus decides that if they're going to die, Ignis should at least know that he still loves himIgnis decides he's not ready to die until he's been a little selfishSet right before the Leviathan





	The Story of Tonight

"You're going to need your rest, Highness." 

He had grown thin. Ignis was horrified he'd failed to notice it until now. His boots drug across the navy close-cropped carpet of the hotel hallway, and there was a curve to his shoulders that suggested he was more tired than he was letting on.

Ignis' throat felt too tight, like he couldn't breath. 

"Yeah, yeah," Noctis sighed, too loudly. He was over compensating for something, trying to convince him. The four of them paused in front of the first hotel room--they'd sprung for two rooms, tonight. There was no sense in sharing a bed or sleeping on the floor, not when tomorrow was so vital to their mission. The leviathan. The ring. The oracle. 

Noctis' eyes were red rimmed, in a tired kind of way. The peace talks had taken a lot out of him--just because the Prince was cunning didn't mean it was easy for him. 

"Spare me the lecture, Specs," Noctis continued, waving a frail hand as he fumbled in his pocket for his key card. Ignis produced it with ease. 

The boys paused again, and Ignis coul feel Gladio's eyes burning a hole in his skull. They're all waiting for Ignis to call out room assignments for the evening, and Noctis was tapping the laminated card against the blunt of his nails. He was tired. 

Everything in Ignis wanted to be in that room with Noctis tonight, urge him to sleep when he refused to, console him if need be. 

But Prompto's fingers were twitching in a way that suggested he was also more than anxious about the room assignments, so Ignis gifted the two of them with a wide--hopefully convincing, barely nonchalant smile. It was late, and they're both curling in on one another, Prompto's shoulder brushing Noct's. 

Ignis wanted to be selfish. But he couldn't be, not when Noctis needed his strength so badly. 

Noctis needed Prompto. 

"Don't stay up too late," Ignis commanded, earning a whoop from Prompto, who slung his arm around Noct's neck in a rough fashion. Noctis grimaced, but Ignis could see the small quirk upward at the corner of his mouth. The boys turned, and Ignis calls, "Prompto! Do take care of his Highness?" 

Prompto's face sunk, suddenly, glancing between Ignis and the back of Noctis' head as if he'd had a sudden realization of an unsavory variety. He nodded. "Course, Iggy. Always try to." 

"Goodnight." 

Gladiolus watched Ignis as he made he way to their own room, his face no longer masked in nonchalance. Ignis was more than stoic tonight, Gladio could tell. He was solemn, his eyes tired behind his glasses in a way that spoke to more than just physical exhaustion. 

Their previous days in the city had lent them some much needed rest, for which Ignis was more than thankful. Gladio watched as Ignis carried himself across the room, immediately disposing of his gloves onto the nightstand. 

"Doubles," Gladio said, his voice full of unveiled surprise. 

"All of us will be needing our strength tomorrow," Ignis explained, sliding his suit jacket off his shoulders and slipping it into the closet. "That includes you and I, Gladiolus." 

Ignis' voice was tender, most likely from fatigue, but it still fanned a small spark in his chest when the advisor spoke his name. Always crisp, always proud. Ignis was one of the few people Gladio counted to be a genuine friend. He paused, pondering. Maybe even his best friend. 

Ignis would laugh at that, no doubt. 

"Right," Gladio nodded in thanks, before smiling conspiratorially at his friend. "'M sure the boys are loving the space." 

Ignis smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes, as if his only goal was to appease Gladio. "Indeed. It seems they have a lot to talk about." 

Gladio bit his lip, watching Ignis curl in on himself. He fought the urge to tell him to shut his brain off, just once, and let himself relax. It was no wonder he was the first one up every morning--Gladio doubted he ever slept. "But?" 

Ignis fidgeted, rolling the sleeves of his shirt back just enough to scratch anxiously at the skin there. The previous days in the city had given them a chance to heal, and Ignis' skin was devoid of any scratching or bruises--unusual to say the least. 

"But nothing," Ignis sighed, his tone more frustration than carelessness. Gladio fought the urge to reach out to him, tell him it would be alright. Whether Ignis knew it or not, they were still just kids. 

But Ignis didn't like being reminded of that fact.  He didn't like being reminded that Gladio cared for him, either. Ignis was fantastic at burying emotions so deep until all the spark was leached out of his eyes. Gladio felt suffocated by the unrequited emotion. 

"We'd best retire early," Ignis sighed again, jotting down something in his notebook, ignoring the way Gladio's jaw clenched and unclenched as he slid his jacket off his shoulders. 

"You want the shower first?" Gladio offered with a smile, stretching, listening to the discs in his back pop and watching Ignis' face contort into a wince. 

"I'd prefer you not getting into the bed smelling the way that you do," Ignis frowned, but Gladio clapped him on the shoulder on his way to the bathroom. 

"Take it easy, kid," he murmured, letting his hand linger briefly against Ignis' arm, before turning and locking himself in the confines of the subway tiled bathroom. 

When he returned, the room had an overwhelming feel of despair. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that, in the bathroom, he had the ability to make out the soft tones of Prompto and Noctis whispering to one another or if it was the sight of Ignis sprawled out on his bed in his undershirt and slacks, one arm strewn over his eyes. 

The steam from the bathroom poured into the dim hotel room, dampening the deep teal carpet, but the new sensation didn't even rouse Ignis from his stupor. His hair was down, as if he'd been running his finger through it and his suspenders were shucked down around his hips. He looked as if he might've been Prompto's age, small and scared and uncertain. 

He looked like he had the first time Gladio had kissed him. 

Gladio braced himself on the doorframe, fingers flexing harshly at the memory, a bitter flavor after all the years he'd spent ruminating in it. Between Ignis' wild, intoxicated smile of _I've always wanted to do that. Kiss you. You have no idea_ to the next morning of Ignis, wise despite the age of sixteen, shoving Gladio's hands away and placing the glasses on the bridge of his nose to say _it was a mistake, Gladiolus. Despite any feelings we may harbor, you have to understand: it was unprofessional. It cannot happen again. I suggest ignoring these feelings in the future_. Ignis began to train alone. Gladio was friendly, but not to friendly. Kept the conversation to Noctis. 

But he couldn't smother the feelings. He'd tried. 

How were you supposed to stop caring about someone who you saw everyday for the rest of your life? Gladiolus knew he was supposed to die for Noctis, but, God, he'd give anything to keep Ignis happy. Safe. Alive. He'd give everything. 

It was scary to think. 

"Hey," Gladio whispered, watching Ignis jump in alarm as the bed dipped with his weight. Ignis removed him arm, staring up at Gladio with his unshielded green eyes. Even without the glasses, Gladio knew Ignis could see right through him. "Someone's thinking deep." 

"Apologies," he said, clearing his throat and straightening up in the bed, folding his legs. "I should be on higher alert, what with the boys next door--" 

"Ignis--" 

He flinched when Gladio laid a hand across his back, his warmth tangible through the thin fabric of Ignis' undershirt. Gladio could make out the moles and freckles dotting his back through the translucent fabric, restraining his fingers from dancing over them. He gave Ignis a soft gaze. "You wanna talk about what's going on with you?" 

Ignis swallowed, eyes darting to the bathroom door as if trying to come up with a way to make a quick escape, but stayed sitting with his legs folded on the bed nonetheless. Gladio was careful not to sit too close, not to let his hip brush Ignis'. 

"Do you always have to be naked?" Ignis grumbled, glancing at Gladio's towel with such a panicked expression it was almost endearing. 

"I've got the same parts you do." 

"That doesn't mean I want a verification," he growled with too much venom, immediately feeling guilty. Gladio withdrew his hand. 

"You don't have to talk," he whispered, staring at the striped wallpaper behind the bed. "But if you're worrying, it's only going to distract you tomorrow, you know." 

Gladio rose from the bed, one hand fisted in his towel, keeping it fashioned closed, and glanced at the clock. "Well, we'd better get some sleep--"

"What if he dies?" 

Gladio froze, his hand midway still tangled in the dark, clean tangles of his hair, his eyes dancing over the wallpaper again. If he glanced back at Ignis, would he even be there? 

"Ignis," Gladio whispered, chancing a look out of the corner of his eye. 

He was pitiful, small, the same as just before with his legs folded like a kindergartener and his hair hanging across his eyes. His hands were covering his face, scratching listlessly at his forehead. "I can't--I can't imagine. He's not ready, Gladio--" 

"Hey, hey." Personal space be damned, Gladio knelt before the bed, his face hovering just in front of Ignis' chest as he took both of his shoulders in his hands: the last time he'd held him like this, Gladio's hands had been able to wrap entirely around them, now he was lucky to cover half his bicep. When had he grown? When had Gladio missed it? "You saw how good today he did with the peace talks. He's not a little boy, Iggy. You taught him good, a'ight?" 

"It's not the same!" Ignis screeched, and when he lifted his arms to stuff his hands into his hair, Gladio caught sight of the red marks across his arms where he'd been scratching at the skin anxiously. There were feather light burns across his wrists and the backs of his hands where he'd made mistakes, and, doubtlessly, Ignis hated them. Gladio wanted to pull his hands away from where it was pulling at his hair and pull them between them. 

He couldn't remember the last time he'd held Ignis' hands. It was a disgusting ache in him, it always was, knowing that if Ignis knew he still cared about him he'd be disgusted, betraying their friendship. Torn constantly between wanting Ignis to be happy and being selfish. 

"Of course he can handle peace talks, Gladiolus. We've been going over that for twenty years--I can't teach him anything about being worthy of a _god_!" 

"You think he isn't?" He murmured, placing a hand on Ignis' knee. 

Ignis' jaw dropped, looking horrified. "That's not what I meant. It's just--" 

"I know, kiddo," Gladio slushed, squeezing his knee. It didn't matter how close Gladio got to Ignis' face, Ignis still found a way to avoid eye contact, jutting his chin almost entirely behind his shoulder, keeping his eyes harshly downcast so that Gladio couldn't see they were red and wet. "Hey, hey. You know it's okay to admit you're scared to lose him, right?" 

"It's selfish," Ignis hissed, reaching up to scrub hopelessly at his face, and Gladio knew he'd hit the mark. "It isn't fair to him. I didn't prepare him for any of this, Gladiolus, and it's absurd that world should fall apart and decide he's the one that has to put it back together--" 

"Ignis--" 

"He's just a boy," Ignis cried, and Gladio sucked in a sharp breath when Ignis threw his fists down onto Gladio's shoulder, leaning forward suddenly to push his face against Gladio's temple. "He shouldn't have to save the world."

Gladio wasn't hesitant to reach around and fist it his hands into Ignis' white t-shirt, no doubt stretching the fabric where he pressed Ignis closer. For just a moment, Gladio felt seventeen again, pretending he was the one that knew best. It was scary, knowing now they were adults and Ignis was the one that should be in charge. It was terrifying knowing Ignis was this scared. 

"It's okay," Gladio murmured hesitantly, pressing his cheek against his chest. He can feel Ignis' heart thumping. "To be angry that you can't do anything about this. It was never fair that they asked you to take care of him in the first place." 

"It's selfish," Ignis whimpered, and Gladio could feel his embarrassment. 

"It's human," Gladio assured, scratching at Ignis' back dutifully, still on his knees which are bare against the deep teal carpet, short sheared and sharp against his skin. "You love him." 

Ignis nods harshly, tangling Gladio's clean hair. Ignis' hands are rough, too dry against Gladio's still wet skin, but Gladio pressed him closer nonetheless. Noctis certainly wasn't hugging Ignis--and someone needed to. 

"Sometimes," Ignis whispered, his warm breath ghosting across Gladio's temple. It's conspiratory, and Gladio could already tell Ignis will regret saying it by the end of the night when he's washing the smell of Gladio out of his hair. "Well, only ever once. Tonight, when we were waiting for his Highness to brief us after the terms were signed," a pause. "I had a thought." 

"Y-yeah?" Gladio asked. He should pull away, and he knew it. He should make Ignis look at him with his red rimmed eyes because he knew Ignis did not want to say whatever he was about to say, spill his guts all over the carpet and then messily try to scoop it all back up. But he didn't pull away, just squeezed Ignis' arms in reassurance. 

"Taking him and running," Ignis said breathlessly. "Hiding. Protecting him, the rest of the world be damned."

It was a sentiment that is somehow unsurprising, even from Ignis. Ignis, who won’t sneak kisses between council meetings because it's unprofessional. Ignis, who lived and breathed one single boy since he could talk. Ignis, whose life was the most pathetic argument for freewill since the garden if Gladio had ever seen one. 

Gladio pulled away. "It'd be nice." 

Ignis nodded, pulling his face reluctantly from Gladio's hair. His bangs were tangled, frizzed in the front, doing nothing to conceal his now ruddy face, red and wet and pouting. He smiled unconvincingly. "I wish I'd never thought it. I can't get it out of my head." 

Gladio wanted to say _that's what happens when you stop up twenty years worth of day dreams. They hurt when you let em out_ , but he didn't. "I'd pay good money to hole up in some shitty beach house with the three of you, long nights or not." 

Ignis smiled, almost reaching his eyes this time, lighting that gasping spark in his chest again. It was painful. "Who said anything about you coming along." 

" _Ouch_ ," Gladio laughed, punching him in the shin. "You can't look after both of those toddlers on your own--and his royal pain in the ass isn't going anywhere without Prompto." 

Smiling softly, Ignis glanced back at the wall, as if he could see the boys on the other side. "I hope they're okay." 

"They are," Gladio assured, standing, stretching, the span of his tattoo on bright display across his still wet skin, red lines around his neck where Ignis' fingers had dug too deep. "Let them rest." 

Ignis kept his gaze trained on his hands, scratching at the pink skin, still angry and pronounced despite the span of years. He could hear the shuffling in the background as Gladio pulled on sweatpants, toweling off his hair, leaving it curled and clean looking. "You rest too." 

Ignis scoffed, a bitter snort, a rueful smile. "I doubt I'll be able. Still, best make an attempt." He felt uncharacteristically juvenile, which was a strong statement when it came to comparing himself to Gladiolus. There's no mistaking Gladio for the boy he was at seventeen, clean cut and mortal looking, all hormones and sloppy lips. Looking at Gladiolus now felt more like staring at sun, he never seemed quite real. Always there, but nonetheless intangible. 

Gladio gave him space, going to stretch across his own bed above the covers, his thick hands scratching across his stomach just above the band of his grey sweatpants. Ignis wondered briefly if Gladio knew what he was doing, if the glances and the long talks were footnotes to a larger novel he was too intertwined in to actually comprehend. 

He stayed slumped forward in his own bed, feeling an unfamiliar sting of humility, scratching at his wrists absently again. 

"You let yourself day dream like that a lot?" Gladio asked, his head rolled to the side, making his clean hair puff around his clavicle. His lips were red, possibly from the shower, and Ignis imagined briefly that they were rough. He'd considered on more than one occasion buying lip balm for Gladiolus--Six knows why women tolerated kissing him when his lips and hands were so _rough_ \--but was worried he'd send a message he didn't want answer to. 

Ignis snorted. "Have you a sudden interest in them?" 

Gladio shrugged, throwing his arms over his head, gripping the headboard lazily to stretch again. Ignis made a mental note that splurging for the extra space had been worth it. "Your last one sounded pretty damn good to me." 

Ignis smiled ruefully, nodding in agreement. "I'm afraid I don't have time for such indulgences frequently. It certainly is a consuming notion, however." Leaning back on his arms, he smiled at Gladio through his limp hair. "You and I and the boys. Safe." 

Gladio let his eyes flutter close, nodding in time to the cadence of Ignis' voice. "You and I, huh?" 

Ignis stiffened. "Gladiolus, you know that's not what I meant--" 

"I know exactly what you meant," Gladio sighed in a tone that was too forgiving, too soft, too broken. Ignis flinched, glaring at his feet. "You're so damn scared for tomorrow? Fine. I get that. I get being afraid, because it's logical. But in that big brain of yours, did you ever stop to think that you might die?" Gladio was sitting up now, glaring at Ignis with fiery eyes, his lip jutted out like a child. 

"I'm more than willing to die for him." 

"That's my job," Gladio growled, his voice even. "You don't get to, so get over it. If you die--" 

"I'm contingent. Noctis is necessary. The world goes on turning without me, Noctis--" 

"For two fucking minutes will you think of yourself?" Gladio laughed, exasperated, pulling at his tangled hair. He was smiling, eyes blazing, and Ignis felt a sick pull in his stomach he hadn't felt in years. "If this is your road to Damascus, I'm not gonna sit and play happy smiling soldier boy with you anymore. Not tonight." 

"Gladiolus--" a warning, but Ignis bit down on his own tongue to smother it. 

Gladio was staring, his hands knotted in the cheap brocade duvet cover beneath him, his bare feet braced on the floor. "I'm not gonna pretend I'm not in love with you. It isn't even--shit, Iggy, it's not just a fucking crush anymore, okay? I don't fucking care--" he began, growling over where Ignis had began to interrupt. "What you have to say right now. I don't care that we work together or it's untoward or whatever shit you're gonna say to me. I don't care that you've decided you don't like me back. The fact is, I'd rather replay that kiss with you in my mind over and over and over again than be with anyone else. I'm sorry."  

He flopped back into the mattress, scrubbing his rough hands over his face, frustrated. Ignis felt sick. 

"Gladio." 

"You don't have to say anything," Gladio murmured, his voice soft again, forgiving and making Ignis' stomach twist. "I just wanted you to know I didn't stop caring about you. It's never been because I have to, it's because I love you."

"Gladio--"

"You don't have to say it back." He paused, before laughing. "And it's okay if you hate me, too. I feel kinda disgusting about it most of the time. You trusted me, and--" 

" _Gladiolus_ ," Ignis growled, his voice closer than before. He blinked to find him standing beside his bed, his red eyes kind above him, confused, seeking. After a moment he realized what he wanted, and Gladio slid over to provide him room. Ignis dropped beside him, balanced on his lip, tucking one leg under the other. He was still wearing his slacks, his black socks, and it makes him look like he's on his way out instead of the other way around. Gladio fought the urge to reach out and scratch at his calf. "Can I ask you something?" 

Gladio nodded as Ignis spread out beside him, laying on his back so that their shoulders brushed, and Gladio felt the warmth despite the thin sleeves of Ignis' too-small undershirt. Ignis' hands were fidgeting with the hem, rolling it between his fingers. "All those years ago, when we were kids--why did you let me kiss you?" 

Ignis could still see it all in his head, not well, but the puzzle pieces he remembered through the intoxication of the shitty beer Gladio had brought, and Ignis had stupidly agreed to consume. It was Christmas, and they'd stayed up late watching some musical special on Hallmark. Ignis was sixteen, all limbs and acne and absolute anger. 

He remembered Gladio's arm slung around his shoulders, his eyes tracing the cut of his jaw instead of watching the blurry characters dance across the snow television set. Ignis remembered his fingers knotting themselves in Gladio's hair and yanking his face down so that they were kissing, Ignis almost daring Gladio to shove him away and say _that's not what I meant at all_ , but then Gladio was kissing him back with the sort of finesse that assured Ignis he'd done it before and--

It was still very overwhelming, even six years later. Gladio's experience was still a chasm between them, a character trait he couldn't seem to shake. It almost made him rueful, from time to time, the freedom that Gladiolus had--despite the fact the autonomy comes at the price of his life. 

"I wanted you to," Gladio answered easily. 

"Why?" 

Gladio paused then, before shrugging. "You were very pretty. You were my friend. I was very very drunk--but I wanted to kiss you before that, too, so I'm not sure I can name it. Don't ask me to, you know I'm too stupid to figure it out." 

"You are not stupid, Gladiolus." 

"Compared to you." 

"Well, everyone is stupid in comparison to me, but let's not go comparing apples to oranges." 

Gladio snorted loudly, rolling so that he can meet Ignis' gaze. The air around them was soft, and Gladio suddenly wasn't so worried he'd ruined everything between them. "Why'd you kiss me?"

"I was sixteen and gay. Hormones do what they will." 

Gladio choked, hands slamming against the mattress with the force of it, brushing Ignis' hands on their way. "Fair enough." 

Ignis blushed at the memory. "You weren't too bad looking, if I recall." 

"Weren't?" 

"You're ages overdue for a haircut." 

"You're such an asshole," Gladio yelped, kicking him in the ankle. 

"But you love me?" 

Gladio froze up again, feeling two fingers brush lightly against his wrist. The feeling welled up inside him, odd and unfamiliar, absurd that Ignis might think he'd need to be soft with him. It's a tenderness he wasn't familiar with. 

"Always." 

Ignis was flipped in less than two seconds, his knees slotted between Gladio's and his hands wound up in his hair, knotting neatly into Gladio's tangles. 

Gladio smiled against Ignis' mouth where he's trying too hard to kiss him too forcefully. It was painfully obvious this had been his first kiss since their last kiss--Gladio can't say he blamed him for that one. It isn't as if Ignis had the time, leaving his only choices to Noctis and Prompto. 

Gladio would rather kiss Umbra. 

But Ignis was here, his lips ghosting across the shell of his ear, tender then angry as if they sew across the half decade they'd missed. Ignis' bare hands were soft, nails raking down Gladio's sides in a hungry way until they snap down to take Gladio's hip and squeeze tightly, leaning down to press himself tightly against Gladio, kissing softly against his adam's apple. 

Gladio was soft, slow in comparison to Ignis' hungry conquest, treating Gladio's body like an island to conquer. Gladio would let him do whatever he wanted tonight, anything. And he'd let him do it the next night, and the next, and the morning after that. He soothed his hands across Ignis' back, smoothing the wrinkles he was making in the hem of his undershirt while Ignis growled against Gladio's neck, placing another sloppy kiss there before returning to his mouth. 

It was endearing, how Ignis kissed him like the sky was falling around them--until Gladio remembered it might well have been. Gladio was more than content to lie here like this for the rest of his life, letting Ignis suck all the air from his lungs and the spirit from his body until the world went dark, but it's Ignis who was dragging his fingers all over Gladio like it's the only way to stay alive, and it's Ignis who pressing heavy kisses over Gladio's chest and neck and lips until Gladio is breathless. 

For a moment, Gladio feels seventeen in an embarrassing kind of way, until he remembered this was Ignis, who was in a very similar situation. Gladio can feel it all on his tongue, the questions of _how many of them have you been with? How many of them did you love?_ It's painful in the way Ignis' brows are furrowed low over his eyes and he's kissing Gladio like he has something to prove. 

Ignis collapsed, pressing his face into the crook of Gladio's neck and _whining_ that would remind of the fact the boys are right next door, had it not been for the fact Ignis canted his hips upward, making Gladio see stars so sharply he had to fumble down to grasp Ignis' hips to prevent another sharp thrust. 

"Make me stop," Ignis whispered, hovering on his arms over Gladio, his hair a curtain above them, and for a moment Gladio is worried he might be crying. "Tell me to stop, Gladiolus, and I will. Make me stop, make me stop, make me stop--" 

"You want to stop?" 

"Six, no," he growled, kissing again, too roughly, and Gladio probably wouldn't have tolerated it with anyone else--but this was Ignis, so he let him seal his plush mouth to his with much too much force. Gladio released his hips inch by inch, shushing Ignis, hands sliding backward. 

"Slow, baby, slow," Gladio urged, and Ignis complied, nodding like it was painful. 

"Gladio--" 

"I'm not expecting anything from you," Gladio whispered against his hair, but Ignis is already pulling away to slide his shirt over his head without fanfare, kissing Gladio roughly so that he has no chance to gawk. 

"I need no convincing," Ignis promised, reaching between them to slide off his belt. 

"I'm not," Gladio's voice caught, embarrassingly. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't love you tomorrow. I won't pretend this didn't happen. I'm not doing that again." 

"Who said I wanted you to?" 

Gladio froze, his hands pressing Ignis close, and Ignis is shaking with the effort of it, flushed and embarrassed. "Don't fuck with me, Iggy." 

"You should've-- _hnng_ \--made that a little clearer, ah, from the beginning, don't you think?"

" _Ignis_." 

"Is it so absurd to believe that I could harbor feelings for you as well?" 

Gladio groaned, his stomach twisting. It wasn't the first time he'd heard something to that affect. "Don't lie." 

"I wouldn't dream of it." He paused, swallowing, before reaching up to push a loose patch a tangles from Gladio's temple, gathering there like wildflowers. "I'm afraid, ah, I'm rather awful with sentimentality, but I'd be much appreciated if you could take me at my word when I say I hold you in high esteem." 

"Hold me in high esteem?" Gladio grumbled, exasperated. 

"I love you," Ignis grunted into the column of Gladio's throat, his hips still uncomfortably far thanks to Gladio's steel grip. "I don't want to pretend anymore. There's no need to. I want to be with you--" 

It was Gladio's turn to surge up, his hands tugging at the hem of Ignis' pants in a signal that he should remove them, and Ignis was nodding, kissing too harshly, poorly, feeling the uncertainty creep up on him once more. 

"Gladio. I haven't, um." 

"Yeah?" 

"I haven't done this before." 

"Coulda fooled me. Ouch!" He yelped, Ignis' knee kicking him hard on the side, and Ignis himself smiling triumphantly from where he sat astride Gladio's left thigh. "It's not rocket science, kid." 

"Please do not call me 'kid' while I'm straddling your thigh in my undergarments, thank you very much." 

Gladio rolled his eyes, reaching up to take Ignis' hips between his hands, his thumbs stroking absently across the hard triangles of his hip bones, watching Ignis' mouth fall open and his eyes become lowlidded at the contact. How many times had he done this before, wishing it was Ignis? He  committed the sight to memory. 

"I promise there's no wrong way to do it," Gladio said softly, the tenderness of it making Ignis swell softly with the emotion of, glancing down at Gladio's smiling face. Ignis couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Gladio smile like that. "I'll guide you if you need any help, yeah? You're in charge. We stop any time you need to." He smiled cheekily. "You aren't gonna break me, Iggy." 

Ignis nodded, reaching down between them to place his palms on Gladio's chest, watching it rise and fall between them. 

"You okay?" Gladio asked, suddenly all concern, but Ignis was smiling it away, scrubbing away the emotions with the back of his hand. 

"I'm fine, um," he swallowed, meeting Gladio's gaze sheepishly. "It's just--could I have a moment, just to look at you?" 

Gladio blinked, taken aback, before nodding, squeezing Ignis' hips before trailing his hands to take Ignis' hands, smiling. "Of course." 

Ignis smiled back. "It's just that I don't want to forget this--just in case, you know?" 

Ignis was aware that there's a possibility that tomorrow his existence could stop at any second. He was a contingent being, his existence is unnecessary--and yet he understood that there's also a possibility that if he ends, if he becomes nothing, all that nothingness is still a form of existence. It all sounded rather boring. 

He'd like to have this memory in all that darkness, if he could, this one fleeting moment of selfish happiness he knew he couldn't regret if he tried. 

"I love you," Ignis said again, trying out the way it tasted in his mouth, smiling softly. Gladio's eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled. Ignis wondered how he'd never noticed that before. "Ready?" 

Gladio nodded. "Always." 

\----

Gladio was asleep around four, hours before dawn would be here, but Ignis was still watching, memorizing the lines of his face, tracing the harsh scars of his chest. He wanted to memorize the way they fit together, the way Gladio's hands held the back of his neck, the way the warmth between them was almost suffocating. On the otherside of the wall, he can hear Prompto's snoring. 

Ignis let his mind wander again to that perfect reality, listening to Gladio's heartbeat beneath his ear, the one where the four of them are safe and happy and together. It's selfish, he knows, but he can't help it. 

He decided to daydream more often.

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't turn out quite the way I wanted but what can you do.  
> I may do a part two who knows. 
> 
> Shout out to Lin Manuel Miranda for the title


End file.
